Visitors to curator Susan Davidson’s exhibition of John Chamberlain’s abstract sculptures made from crushed car parts look like people vetting goods at an auto show. Hands on hips, they inspect the gleaming, chromium-plated, painted or stainless steel works that Chamberlain constructed over a period of 60 years, until his death in December at age 84. They peer around shiny fenders, and gaze down at the muscular masses of metal that line the Guggenheim’s rotunda.
Meanwhile, in the annex gallery off the fourth level of the rotunda, visitors to Corey Keller’s exhibition of Francesca Woodman’s photographs are lost in the kind of contemplation called for by tiny photographic self-portraits. In one image, Woodman seems to cut herself under the right breast, and inky blood trickles down her torso; in another, she stages herself as a naked corpse bitten by a viper. Woodman killed herself in 1981, at age 22, and the specter of her imminent suicide looms; the dimly lit dual galleries of small, black and white photographs have a funereal feel.
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